


a murder but not a crime

by ThunderstormsandMemories



Series: persona rarepair week 2020 [1]
Category: Persona 5
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Black Mask Haru, F/F, First Kiss, First Meetings, Grief/Mourning, Trans Female Character, even though sumi is the only relevant one in this fic, kind of? it's haru's father and she killed him so like. sort of??, my trans royal trio agenda strikes again, spoilers through November
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-25
Updated: 2020-11-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:07:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27706015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThunderstormsandMemories/pseuds/ThunderstormsandMemories
Summary: in which Haru is Black Mask and Sumire is her accompliceOR,“Oh,” she said, in a soft voice, adorable in a way that was at odds with the weapon she was holding and the skill with which she wielded it. “Oops. I’m so sorry! I was just trying to help but it looks like you were fine on your own, I didn’t mean to wave this at you.” She lowered her axe with one hand—Kasumi wondered what her shoulder muscles must look like—and covered her mouth, but not before Kasumi saw that she was blushing. “Sorry, I’m being very rude. It’s lovely to meet you.”
Relationships: Okumura Haru/Yoshizawa Sumire | Yoshizawa Kasumi
Series: persona rarepair week 2020 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2026348
Comments: 3
Kudos: 12





	a murder but not a crime

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Persona Rarepair Week 2020 (Day 1: roleswap)
> 
> Content warnings: mild violence, references to canon minor character death (offscreen) and murder (also offscreen)

Mementos had been scary, the first time Kasumi had found her way there by herself, and at first she’d have to remind herself to be brave, like Joker, like- no, there was no one else. There was just her. Kasumi Yoshizawa, gymnast, honor student, well-behaved daughter, perfectly normal teenager who fought imaginary monsters with a sword in an alternate dimension. There was some kind of explanation, something about cognitive psience, but Kasumi didn’t really care. What she cared about was that this was something that was just hers. She didn't know why gymnastics wasn’t that for her anymore, couldn’t remember how or why it had changed.

But now Mementos was the place where she could go to be herself. Not star gymnast Kasumi Yoshizawa, just Kasumi. Except that Kasumi didn’t always seem to fit her quite right, not all the time, not when she thought about it too much, like she was meant to have another name that she’d forgotten. She knew she must’ve had another name at some point, because she knew that her parents had thought she was their son when she was born, and they must’ve given her a name to match. She couldn’t remember what it was, but she was pretty sure that wasn’t what was missing. After all, that had never really been her either, so she didn’t understand why she couldn’t always bring herself to respond to Kasumi when other times it felt so right, like it was right note played so far out of tune it sounded like a different note altogether. So in Mementos she wasn’t really Kasumi either. Violet, she’d called herself, when Joker said that she needed a codename. Violet belonged to her, and her alone, and Violet didn’t have to be afraid of anything.

Her friendship with Joker made it easy for her to keep track of the Phantom Thieves’ plans, which meant she knew when to avoid Mementos so she didn’t run into them. It wasn’t that she was doing anything wrong, exactly, but she didn’t want to deal with them asking questions about why she couldn’t just join them, if she was going to be hanging out in the Metaverse anyway, didn’t want to have to explain that this was something she had to do for herself. They didn’t seem to understand that sometimes people had to make their own choices and find their own way.

She knew Joker was picking up a shift at the flower shop today so the Phantom Thieves wouldn’t be doing anything, so instead of sneaking around she headed directly into a part of Mementos she hadn’t explored yet. The monsters were different here, stronger, but she could handle it. She could probably handle it, since she was expecting the challenge, but she wasn’t expecting to hear the sounds of battle around the corner ahead of her, before she’d even seen any Shadows or summoned Cendrillon.

If it was the Phantom Thieves, they’d be fine, but she could only make out one voice that sounded human, and she couldn’t imagine what reason any of them would have for striking out on their own, not when they put such emphasis on their whole teamwork and friendship thing. But if it was someone different, she didn’t want to leave them on their own in case they needed help, so she crept cautiously around the corner, trying to see if she recognized whoever it was.

What she saw was a girl with an axe absolutely wasting the shadows that were attacking her, and Violet froze for a moment with her heart in her throat, not out of fear but out of admiration. The way this girl moved, with such confidence and such grace and such force, was beautiful, and Violet was almost disappointed by how quickly she was dispatching the shadows, wishing that the fight would go on longer so she could keep watching it. But once the fight ended, there was a chance that the girl would turn and notice Violet, so she had to leave now, since she clearly didn’t need Violet’s help.

Unfortunately, as she backed away, still entranced by the battle, she stumbled over her own feet, and one of the shadows turned its head toward her at the sound. She had only a split second of warning to produce her sword before it lunged, but that was enough to give her the upper hand, and a few well-placed blows and well-chosen spells were enough to destroy the monster. And then, as it dissolved, Violet found herself suddenly face-to-face with the other girl, her axe raised over her head, poised to strike.

“Oh,” she said, in a soft voice, adorable in a way that was at odds with the weapon she was holding and the skill with which she wielded it. “Oops. I’m so sorry! I was just trying to help but it looks like you were fine on your own, I didn’t mean to wave this at you.” She lowered her axe with one hand—Violet wondered what her shoulder muscles must look like—and covered her mouth, but not before Violet saw that she was blushing. “Sorry, I’m being very rude. It’s lovely to meet you.” There was something familiar about her, about her soft voice and the curls of her hair and the curve of her lips, but Violet couldn’t quite place her, not with the axe in her hand and the black satin mask covering the top half of her face. Maybe she went to Shujin too, like so many of the Phantom Thieves? “You can call me Noir.”

“Nice to meet you, Noir,” she said, finally remembering how to speak. “You can call me Violet.”

“That’s such a cute name,” said Noir. “It suits you.” She paused, chewing at her lip, and Violet wondered if she was going to ask why she was there, if she was going to have to explain herself and her complicated history with the Phantom Thieves. But when Noir spoke again, what she said instead was, “You seem like you’re pretty good at this, right? How would you like to explore a little further with me?”

“Sure,” Violet said. It wasn’t like she had any other plans for the day, and she thought it might be nice to spend a little more time with this strange and beautiful girl. “You can definitely handle yourself, and so can I, but it might be more fun with some company.”

“Depends on the company,” said Noir, with a giggle, “but I think you might be the right company for me.”

* * *

Haru liked Kasumi. She liked her a lot, more than she meant to. All she wanted was someone to explore Mementos with, to make the endless grind of tunnels and shadows a little less boring, someone she could talk to without worrying that every word was being analyzed, picked apart for signs of weakness or disloyalty. Sure, there was something odd about her, about the way she talked about her family and her past and her gymnastics career, and once Haru had the emotional energy to think about something other than her own plan she might have to have a word with Kasumi’s so-called therapist, but Haru wasn’t exactly the best judge of what was normal or well-adjusted anyway.

Until Kasumi, Haru had never really had friends. Not real friends anyway, the kind she liked, and who liked her, the kind she trusted. Between her natural shyness and her father’s reputation, her classmates tended to steer clear of her. She’d had playmates as a child, the children of her father’s business associates, and now she had _peers_ , those same children grown up into teenagers who were either boring and vapid, content with their unearned luxury, or ambitious and grasping, just as eager to gossip with her as they were to gossip about her. But for all they were supposedly her equals, they couldn’t possibly understand her. And then there was Akechi, who had probably been the closest thing she had to a friend before Kasumi, but he was too deeply caught up in the same mess she was for her to ever really trust him. They were perfectly civil to each other when their paths crossed at television studios or gala dinners, exchanging pleasantries as if he didn’t know how much blood was on her perfectly manicured hands, all the skeletons in her metaphorical, cognitive closet. As if she didn’t know that his reputation was built on bribes and threats and perjury, and he kept a gun in his briefcase. She wondered who he was eventually going to use it on.

Maybe they could’ve been friends, if she could’ve been sure of his disloyalty, if it hadn’t become so obvious to her that he was falling apart, always just a second too slow with the polite laughter, the stage makeup not quite enough to hide the bags under his eyes, but even he couldn’t really understand her, even though he knew the facts of what she did. He had to, in order to frame other people for her crimes, and his involvement in the earlier stages of the cognitive psience research that had created her meant that he knew about the more fantastical parts of what she did as well. Haru’s father hadn’t been happy when the experiments with him had gone wrong and the conspiracy had needed to find another easily manipulated teenager to become their magical assassin instead, though privately Haru thought that they probably would’ve brought her in eventually regardless, since two easily manipulated teenage assassins surely would’ve been better than one, especially since they could be turned against each other when they outlived their usefulness. And anyway, she thought she might prefer being a weapon to being a doll, dressed up and sold off in marriage to the highest bidder or most promising ally, the way her father wanted to use her.

She wasn’t surprised when Shido had him killed, though she would’ve preferred for it to have happened on her terms. She had loved her father, a long time ago, when she still thought he loved her. But with his death, she was free of his lies and his plans for her, free to be her own person and free to pursue her revenge against everyone who’d played a part in involving her father in the conspiracy that had revealed the worst in him. They’d made her into a weapon, but they’d shown her that he was cruel and heartless and cared more for his profits than his daughter, and that was even less forgivable.

She met Kasumi in Mementos the day after the news broke. They’d gotten into the habit of going out for lunch together: Haru, wearing oversized sunglasses and a floppy hat to hide her face so that no one would know that the Okumura heiress was visiting rival cafes, and Kasumi, cheerfully sampling everything that Haru bought for her with her father’s credit card while telling her about her latest achievements in practice. It wasn’t like he was going to ever look at the bill. But that day, she couldn’t stand the thought of anyone recognizing her in public, picking apart her emotional state. She was too tired to pretend her grief wasn’t shot through with triumph and rage.

“Hey,” Kasumi said, softly, opening her arms and allowing Haru to fall into a hug she hadn’t realized she needed.

“Thanks,” Haru said, voice muffled by Kasumi’s shoulder. Her arms were warm and strong around her, and she felt like she could breathe freely. She’d taken a detour through Mementos the night before, after she’d finished the job, taking swings at any shadows that got close enough, picking fights so that she didn’t have to think, trying to avoid the inevitable adrenaline crash and the realization that something that had been in the future for so long was now in the past. It helped that her plan wasn’t complete, that she still had something to work towards, something to do other than feel whatever horrible mix of emotions would well up in her if she allowed herself to hold still for long enough. It wasn’t until now, in Kasumi’s arms, that she let herself cry.

When she was done, she untangled herself from Kasumi and gave a shaky, self-conscious laugh. “Are you okay?” said Kasumi. “I mean, obviously you’re not- I mean, I’m so sorry, I don’t know what to say but I’m here.”

“Why are you being so nice?” Haru said. Kasumi knew perfectly well that Haru had killed her own father, had even helped her make her way through his palace, though Haru hadn’t allowed her to be there for the final confrontation. Kasumi didn’t deserve to be caught up in any of this, but she’d insisted on helping. Even so, Haru had convinced her that the actual act was something she had to do alone. “I’m the one who did this.”

“Because I care about you,” Kasumi said simply, “and you’re in an awful situation. No one should have to go through anything you’re going through alone.”

“I thought you believed in people solving their own problems,” said Haru. It was one of the first things they’d bonded over, the idea that they couldn’t wait around for anyone else to solve their problems for them, and it was why Kasumi hadn’t been horrified when she’d figured out enough of what Haru was doing for Haru to trust her with the truth of the rest, half expecting her to run away in horror, back into the arms of the Phantom Thieves and their unsolicited advice about how she ought to live her life and solve her problems that they couldn’t possibly understand. But instead she’d just looked at her, eyes wide and shining with sympathetic tears, and said, _Is there anything I can do to help?_

“That doesn’t mean I can’t support you while you do it,” said Kasumi. “That doesn’t mean I have to do nothing when I see you hurting.”

Haru made another mental note to see what she could do to help with Kasumi’s situation once the danger of this phase of her plan had passed. She didn’t know the details, because Kasumi seemed to not remember that anything was wrong most of the time, though she’d once made an offhand reference to a sister whom she’d later denied all knowledge of, and Haru hadn’t wanted to pry. Haru had spent enough of her life with her privacy invaded by paparazzi to want to leave Kasumi’s personal life for her to share if she wished, not even running a quick social media search of her name once she’d learned that they went to the same school. But now, even though she knew Kasumi was helping because she cared and expected nothing in return, Haru didn’t want to be in anyone’s debt, and she thought Kasumi deserved for Haru to show her the same support. And everything she knew about the Shujin counselor did nothing to make Haru trust him or his assessment of Kasumi’s mental and emotional needs.

“Thank you,” said Haru, squeezing Kasumi’s hand. “You’re the best friend I could ask for.”

“Oh,” said Kasumi, a blush creeping up her cheeks underneath her mask. “Thank you.” And then, still not pulling her hand away from Haru’s, she said, “So what’s the next step, then? Do they still want you to go undercover with the Phantom Thieves?”

“They do,” said Haru. She understood their reasoning. It would be easier to continue framing them if they had someone on the inside, but it didn’t make her any more excited about the prospect. They all cared so fucking much, and they all believed so strongly in their naive ideals. She was pretty good at hiding her feelings, had to be with the life she’d led, but she wasn’t sure she’d be able to withstand so much earnest sympathy, so many well-intentioned obstacles. Under different circumstances, she might have gotten along with them, and she even liked the ones she knew as classmates and distant acquaintances. But she didn’t want them to care about her, and she was steeling herself for a difficult and miserable month.

Akechi had told her her this morning, springing the news on her right before she was due to go onstage for the first of her interviews about her father’s murder, and at the time she hadn’t been sure if she was angrier about the bad timing or that Shido hadn’t even bothered to call her to give the order himself. Akechi’s condolences had sounded almost sincere, but they’d had enough television appearances together that she knew when he was lying, and it had been a relief to be able to snap at him to get out of her way. At least with him she didn’t need to pretend to be the sweet mourning heiress.

She didn’t have to pretend with Kasumi, either, though Kasumi frequently said that she was sweet, for listening to her complain about school, for consoling her after defeats, for treating her to as much dessert as she wanted, and she supposed she was. But she wondered if that was just a reflection of Kasumi’s own kindness, that she saw the best in her and brought out a side in her that she’d forgotten could feel genuine. And now, with Kasumi, she was mourning. In her own way, not the sniffling she’d faked during the interviews when mostly she’d just felt numb and wanted to get them over with. And apparently her way involved letting Kasumi wipe away her tears as she mulled over the next stage of her plan. Their plan now, she supposed, though she had no intention of letting Kasumi either kill or be killed for her.

“I’ve been thinking about that,” said Kasumi, “and I had an idea. You don’t really want to do it, right? But now you have to?” Haru nodded, and Kasumi continued, “What if I come with you? Please, think about it, they already know me and they know that I’m a Persona user. Joker even invited me to join before, so if I show up with you, they’re more likely to believe whatever story you tell them. And that way, I’ll be with you, so hopefully you’ll be a little less miserable, right?”

She was still holding Haru’s hand, and somehow Haru was fixated on that detail as she tried to process what she was saying. “Are you sure?” she said. “It won’t be fun for you either, you’ll be betraying your friends.”

“I guess,” Kasumi said, “but they all have each other, and I’m sure they’ll be fine. You deserve to have someone on your side.” Her eyes were very bright, and there was a strange note in her voice.

“So do you,” Haru said. “If you want to do this with me, I’d be honored to have you.”

“Thank you,” said Kasumi, and then she leaned in, still holding Haru’s hand, and kissed her quickly on the lips.

Just as quickly she pulled back, and Haru raised her free hand to her mouth. “Oh,” she said.

“I’m so sorry,” Kasumi said. “I don’t know what came over me, I just, I care about you and I wanted you to know that, and I didn’t know how to explain that I want to be with you and help you and keep you safe and… I care about you, a lot.”

“I care about you a lot too,” said Haru, finally dropping Kasumi’s hand so that she could place her hands gently on either side of her face and pull her in for a proper kiss. It probably wasn’t the best kiss that had ever been exchanged, since Haru hadn’t exactly had much opportunity to practice beforehand, but it was nice, with Kasumi’s teeth scraping her lip and one hand tangled in her lovely soft hair, and Kasumi, cheeks flushed, eyes closed, hands grasping at Haru’s shoulders and working their way under her vest, certainly seemed to be enjoying herself as well.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Cell Block Tango from Chicago because that's the iconic 'women can do little a murder as a treat' song and that's what this fic is. Haru can do little a patricide as a treat.
> 
> Come say hi on [twitter](https://twitter.com/selkie_au_lover)


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